This chapter is based on the Faust scene and it follows the events of the 2 part series more closely than previous chapters, although there may be minor differences. All reviews are welcome, as usual, and thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far!
Inspector Ledoux was baffled as he sat in the stalls with his men, waiting impatiently for the performance to begin. In a career spanning more than three decades he had never encountered such an unusual case as this one. Someone was living below the Opera House, playing tricks on the manager's wife, making demands, sending notes and calling himself "the phantom of the opera"... Well, one thing was obvious: this perpetrator was no more a ghost than he was himself. And elusive as he may be, he would not escape the grasp of Inspector Albert Ledoux.
Up until now, he had enjoyed a fairly successful career, which had given him a comfortable home in a pleasant arrondisement of Paris and a good education at the convent for his two daughters. Of course, it helped that his job had given him many influential contacts and this was reflected in the very welcome bonuses he received every Christmas. After all, despite his adequate salary, he and his wife deserved to have the nicer things in life after all his hard work. Indeed, life was good for him and he was eternally grateful and relieved that he was not based in one of the less salubrious districts, like some of his friends.
Not that the area he was responsible for was free of crime; indeed the wealthy patrons of the Opera House were easy prey for the thieves and pickpockets that tended to loiter around there, and similar establishments, at night. Thankfully these incidents were relatively unusual but when they did occur his men were always on hand to give pursuit. But he always relished those occasions when Jean Claude or the manager would send for his good self. He enjoyed coming to this splendid building, walking across the foyer with all the authority that his position entitled him to and taking down the details methodically before consoling the victims and assuring them that the culprit would be caught. And thanks to his extensive knowledge of Paris, he was almost always successful.
He did miss Gerard Carriere though; everyone did. He was always so courteous and deferential, not to mention grateful for the help of the gendarmes. Ledoux even used to visit him in his office every now and again and chat with him, just to make sure all was well and to let the manager know that he was always at his service. And the service of his clientele, of course.
But over the years, there were incidents with the company itself of items being stolen or moved to the most unlikely places or even voices coming from within the walls. These were the cases that baffled him the most. And although Gerard was always his usual charming self on these occasions there were moments when the seasoned inspector knew his old acquaintance was hiding something. But what?
This new manager seemed to be as much in the dark as everyone else, however, and much less tolerant of the "ghost's" antics than his predecessor. At first, this fellow's actions seemed ridiculous: putting fleas in Carlotta's wig, indeed! Was this why he became a gendarme – to investigate wigs? But both of them were sure that something else was afoot, something sinister, and neither of them would rest until "that masked fiend" as they called him, was caught. So that was why he seemed to be practically living at the Opera House these days and why he was currently waiting for the curtain to open on the latest production of some opera he knew nothing about. He was hunting down a glorified practical joker in a mask who haunted the catacombs of the Opera House. What strange reports he seemed to be writing these days. Still, there were worse places to spend an evening…
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The Opera House was buzzing with noise and excitement as old friends greeted each other and gossip and scandal were exchanged. Who was marrying who, who was feeling under the weather, who didn't receive an invitation to such-and-such a party…But this was no ordinary night, this was the professional debut of Christine Daae, an unknown costume assistant and chorus girl, who was already attracting attention for her beautiful voice and the elite of Paris were looking forward to it.
Philippe strolled into his usual box, having wished Christine every success beforehand. If he had stayed a little longer, he may have noticed Carlotta arriving with a strange herbal brew in her hand and a malicious glint in her eye. But why would he have suspected anything? He thought too well of people for any suspicious thoughts of that nature.
Following behind was Gerard, pleased to have such a grand view for one of his favourite operas: Faust. Indeed, both men enjoyed it and were looking forward to the evening ahead, particularly the opportunity to hear Christine sing.
"Mother sends her apologies but she has decided to stay on in Monte Carlo for a little longer," Philippe told his friend, "Apparently she hasn't seen enough of the place yet."
"Not to worry. Greet her for me when she returns, won't you?"
"Of course."
Gerard looked out over the auditorium he knew so well, casting a professional eye over everything and noted with satisfaction that the place looked clean, well-cared for and more than presentable. The chandelier was gleaming and looking as magnificent as ever, up there in its lofty heights above the audience. He nodded and waved discreetly at old friends and acquaintances, all of whom looked happy to see him again. Time to forget about Erik for a little while.
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Choletti was there of course, revelling in the success of his latest business venture and the world it had introduced him to. Much better than the dirty factories or "those horrible little shops" (as Carlotta called them) which he'd owned back in Rome. Mind you, they'd given the two of them a nice life, which was a good thing for all concerned as his wife had very expensive tastes. The lady in question sat next to him, fanning herself and waiting listlessly for the opening curtain as the orchestra tuned their instruments. At that moment he could not have guessed her diabolical plan to ruin Christine or all the events that it would lead to. All he knew was that she was determined to become the star of this company and he would not have a quiet life until she did.
Unknown to everyone, Erik stood behind the curtain in his usual box, watching, waiting. He waited for her, of course, for tonight all of these people would hear the voice he loved. When he saw Philippe, waving at friends and looking completely at home in his private box, he clenched his fist but managed to remain quiet.
Is that all it takes to be popular or to court a young lady? he thought sadly, A handsome face?
But of course it was all it took; didn't everyone up here love beauty? A creature such as himself had no place in this world. That was why Gerard kept him down below when he was a child and why he had to wear a mask.
Gerard was sitting next to the young man, as Erik knew he would be. He looked over at his old friend, protector, guardian, uncle….
Uncle. Oh, he was more than that, Erik knew that now. Perhaps he had always known, deep down. Why else would he give up so much of his life, especially now that his duties as manager were finished, to help, console and support him? And why did he, the dreaded Phantom, sometimes feel this overwhelming need to deepen their friendship, to look for affection from him, to cheer him up, to spend time with him? Why, above all, were their eyes so alike?
He wondered if Gerard would ever tell him. But it was no wonder he had kept it a secret all these years – who would want to admit that their son was a monster? Gerard had been handsome when he was younger and Erik mourned inwardly when he thought how disappointed he must have been when his hideous son was born. No wonder he hid me away…
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The performance began, and Gerard even found himself looking over the props and feeling a certain tinge of regret that Erik had not chosen them. He also wondered how many of them would end up being "borrowed" by the mysterious phantom.
Christine came on stage, looking as beautiful as ever in her peasant's costume, and Gerard was briefly reminded of Belladora's wonderful debut on this very stage, so long ago. Hopefully she would receive the same rapturous applause at the end. Philippe could hardly take his eyes off her and his friend watched him with interest and amusement. Perhaps this little dalliance was more genuine than the others?
They watched the colourful events unfolding on the stage and the sight of Faust and Mephistopheles revelling with the villagers. And then it was time for Christine to sing and both men seemed to be waiting with bated breath, along with everyone in that auditorium.
Her voice faltered and a wheezy, gasping sound came out.
A little shocked, she tried again, only to produce the same gasping sound, but more strained this time and punctuated by coughs.
Again and again she tried, as the cast panicked, the audience grew restless and Erik stood at the front of the box, disregarding the police officers in the audience, astonished and bewildered as his protégé tried in vain to produce the same notes they had worked so hard on together.
Her heart pounded as she failed to produce anything but that horrible sound and even thought the rest of the cast tried to calm the audience, they were starting to boo and heckle her most cruelly. When they started throwing their theatre programmes at her, she could not stop the tears from flowing and tried to hide among the other actors, terrified and bewildered.
Over the noise, few could hear the cruel, heartless cackle of a certain diva. Or the cry of "No! NO!" coming from Box 5. But someone heard the latter.
For a moment Gerard forgot he was no longer the manager and shouted for the curtain to be lowered. But at that moment he saw Erik dart out of his box and in a split second he was doing the same, as Philippe took up the call for the curtain. Whatever Erik was planning, he would have to put a stop to it. Heaven knows what he could do in that blind anger.
With fierce determination, the enraged phantom ran up to the flies, pushed the chief stagehand aside and made straight for the pulley that held the chandelier in place, sword in hand. "Erik, no!" Gerard shouted helplessly, but it was already too late to stop him. With swift strokes, he cut through the rope and just as Gerard reached him, the last few threads were severed, the mechanism spun out of control and the magnificent chandelier plummeted into the audience at a frightening speed.
"Erik…" he gasped, but his son was already gone, by goodness knows what route. Looking down, he could see a cloaked figure land on the stage where Christine was to trying break away from the melee, and he ran down the steps as fast as his aging body could carry him. Erik was headed straight for Christine, oblivious to all the chaos around him.
He's going to take her! Gerard thought suddenly, and practically flung himself towards them, desperately trying to break the masked man's hold on the terrified young girl as he dragged her from the stage.
"Let her go!" he demanded, but he should have known that his son was too strong for him. With a loud cry, Erik pushed him violently against the wall and the pain and the momentary shock meant that the two of them were far away by the time he was on his feet.
When Philippe ran over and frantically asked him where Christine was, he pleaded ignorance of course but he knew all too well. He did not try to stop the young man as he set off in pursuit, but he did not fancy his chances of ever finding them.
The Opera House was in chaos. Broken glass everywhere, people injured or in shock, screaming, crying, orderlies trying to make their way through the crowd… To his credit, Choletti was trying to keep everyone back and to instil some kind of order. Some members of the audience suffered very serious injuries, and this was the end of any semblance of normality for the Opera House or its beleaguered owner.
Having got his breath back, Gerard badly wanted to go down below and find Erik but was waylaid by the ballet mistress who wanted to examine his injuries. He was not badly hurt but this formidable lady regarded herself as the unofficial nurse for the entire company and would not rest until she had satisfied herself that he was not going to faint or bleed to death.
He knew he would have bruises on his arm and shoulder tomorrow but it hardly mattered at the moment, for it was inside where he was in the most pain. His son, his own son, had done all this, had cut down the heavy chandelier in a crowded building in order to distract everyone while he stole Christine away. And then he had pushed him against a wall with such hatred and without a moment's hesitation. Weren't they friends, above all else? Never, in all these years, had Erik ever hurt him physically. Something was happening to him. Christine had awakened something in her maestro, something deadly, and now she would be alone with him, down there…
He had to go down there. Somehow, he would have to get away without being seen. He walked around the chaotic building, helping where he could, trying to think, trying to avoid Ledoux, and trying to figure out what was happening. Why did Christine sing so badly, for a start? Had Erik planned to take her after the performance anyway, or had he decided right there and then? And the question he dreaded – could this new, frightening Erik be persuaded to let her go?
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All through that flight underground – the escape to the dressing room upstairs, the departure through the secret entrance that even Gerard knew nothing about, the never ending descent of the steps below the building, Erik never stopped. Ignoring Christine's protests, he led her quickly and without pause further and further below, away from hatred and noise and people.
All the while, those hateful catcalls were echoing in his mind, the faces, the programmes being thrown at the stage… He could not yet analyse the reasons for his angel's failure; that would have to come later. But the demonic laughter coming from Carlotta's direction was a substantial clue. Right now, he had to get her away from them. He did not stop, not until they were at the top of the final flight of steps that led down to the lagoon where the boat was waiting to take them to his kingdom. Their kingdom. For if that was what the world Above was truly like then Christine would not spend another moment there. She would be safe with him, and only with him.
He paused for a moment and released her hand, allowing her to catch her breath and take in the scene below them. There was fear in her eyes, fear of the dark and of the unknown, but surely she would become accustomed to it all in time? Surely she would grow to love his world, just as he did? With exquisite tenderness he took her hand again, longing to press it to his lips. Perhaps she will allow me to do that later?
"There's no need to be afraid," he told her gently, his heart racing as she smiled hesitantly at him. With the greatest of care, he led her down those steps to the boat just as he did in his daydreams, like a king leading his new bride…
